Second Playthrough With Mods!
by najex
Summary: Where Alistair tries and fails to make sense of his current leader.


Alistair confidently walked through Orzammar's Diamond Quarter behind his warden sister towards the Harrowmont Estate, not a doubt in his mind that she would be able to gain the support of the dwarves.

If you asked Alistair what the best decision he had ever made was, then he would say that is was insisting that his new friend take over leadership once they embarked on their mission.

She was absolutely perfect. A heroine that he had previously believed only lived in stories. She stopped to help everyone they met and she even had the foresight never to bring that bitch Morrigan with them whenever she did so, so they wouldn't have to put up with her evil nagging. How she managed to predict whenever they were going to encounter some poor lost soul in need of rescue to make sure Morrigan was never present for it, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As soon as he had told her about his wish to visit his sister she had told everyone to drop all that they were doing and had ordered a forced march towards Denerim just so that he could visit his long-lost family member. Completely ignoring the fact that they were on a timetable with the whole blight and all.

It was as if the Blight itself was waiting for her to finish any good deed that needed doing before it would move forward. Leliana routinely went on about how it must be a sign that the Maker was smiling down on their cause, and in those moments, Alistair was tempted to believe her.

He had been _soooo_ nervous when that messenger from Duncan came to him all the way back in Ostagar, telling him to play guide to the new warden recruit. It had gotten even worse when he learned that she was  
A: a woman, because he had no idea how to deal with that!  
B: a Dalish Elf. He didn't know much about the Dalish except for some horror stories that he had heard back in the monastery that even he could tell where exaggerated. Stealing children, honestly! He hadn't believed in such things since he was twelve, thank you very much! As if the Dalish would ever want to steal _human_ children. They hated humans and therein lay the problem; _he_ was human. Oh, Maker! She would surely despise him on sight!  
But lo and behold! For some reason, she had taken an instant liking to him. She seemed to find all of jokes hilarious, even the once that even _he_ thought where kind of ' _meh'_ to be honest.

Also C: though, compared to the other points this was a minor issue. He had no idea how he was supposed to pronounce her name: Hermione Mahariel. He had never heard of someone named Hermione before. Until recently he had assumed it was elven or some such, but when they had gone to recruit from the Dalish he had gotten exposed to some of the elven tongue, and the name Hermione sounded very out of place there. He had gotten around the issue by never actually saying her name out loud, always referring to her simply as 'you', 'leader', or 'her'. He suspected that all their companions had the same problem as he did, since they all simply referred to her as 'Warden'.

Alistair shot a smile towards the dwarf who stood in a corner crying: "Grey Warden arrives in Orzammar, undoubtedly to offer assistance to Lord Harrowmont!"

 _Don't worry, the Grey Wardens have arrived and will insure that justice prevails!_

They reached Harrowmont's estate and. . . his leader kept on walking.

"Huh?" Alistair found himself saying. He sped up his walk so he now walked beside her. "Where are you going? Harromont's estate is right there," he said, pointing at the large decorated door that they had just passed.

She looked confused for a second, but then she smiled at him. "Oh, we are not going to support Harromont. Prince Bhelen is what Orzammar needs."

Alistair's mouth nearly dropped to the ground in astonishment. "Bu–but–but you can't be serious? You heard what Nerav back in there told us! Bhelen cares for nothing but power. He killed his own brothers!"

She just kept smiling at him. "Orzammar's traditions are horrible, outdated, restrictive and are killing the dwarves. Bhelen is going to change all that and grant opportunities to the casteless."

Alistair wondered how someone that was raised in a forest knew anything at all about dwarven traditions, but Alistair had slowly just come to accept that Hermione knew everything. He still wasn't just going to let this go, however, he wanted to at least understand her reasoning.

"Why do you think Bhelen cares one wit about the casteless?"

"I heard he has a casteless mistress."

 _Oh,_ Alistair thought, _I guess that despite everything, she still sometimes struggles with different cultures._

"I am sorry, I thought you knew this." Alistair took a deep breath to steady himself; he hated having to talk about this. "When a high ranking noble like Bhelen takes a mistress from one of the lowest classes of society it doesn't mean that he cares about her. It just means she is pretty and wants to ehm. . ." He felt blood rush towards his sheeks. _Maker, why do I need to be the one to do this! "_ Enjoy her company whenever he wants. It doesn't mean that he cares about her people, or even loves her in particular, it just means he thinks she has a nice bum. At least that is how it is like in Human society."

She never lost her smile and instead led them back towards the Commons where she talked to some merchant that spoke very favorably of Bhelen.

"You see," she told him smugly, "Bhelen wants a new way, and he cares about the economy! That is good for everyone."

"That's. . . nice I guess," he said uncertainly. "But I really think we should pick someone more trustworthy. We need to be sure that whomever we pick will support us against the Blight. Someone who doesn't care about traditions might not care about our treaties. Someone who is reported to have more honor like Harromont is more likely to honor them."

"Alistair, we shouldn't let what others tell us influence our opinions of people," she gently scolded him. "let's just give him a chance, alright?"

"I guess there is no harm in that." That did sound reasonable.

* * *

"I think I need a bath," Alistair spat. "That Vartag fellow is one of the slimiest people I have ever met."

His sister warden nodded at him. "I agree, I don't like him either."

"Good," Alistair let out a relieved breath. "So can we go to Harromont now?"

"No. Just because one of his underlings is unpleasant that doesn't mean that Bhelen is bad for Orzammar."

"Really," he lifted an incredulous eyebrow at her. Something he never would have dared to do at the beginning of this journey but he had picked up a bit more confidence along the way. "You are still going with that? And besides, that task we were just asked to do sounded fishy to me. Couldn't we at least check in with the Shaperate?"

"That's just politics Alistair," she waved away his concern. "We haven't even met Bhelen yet."

And so they delivered the document that _'supposedly'_ proved that Harromont was double dealing his supporters to Lord Helmi who was drinking at tapsters. He gave them another lecture on the pointlessness of the caste system that had Hermione looking at him smugly afterwards.

This whole thing was making him uncomfortable. Even if she was right – and she usually was – Grey Wardens normally aren't supposed to involve themselves in politics. Saving the occasional Dalish Hunter or giving some tavern wench a chance at a better life is one thing, but she was planning to help overhaul an entire culture. Alistair thought that with a Blight coming they should focus on that instead and not get involved in politics any more than absolutely necessary.

 _But hey, what do I know? Hermione seems to know what she is doing._

Lord Dace sadly wasn't in Orzammar so they had to go look for him in the deep roads.

* * *

Alistair threw himself to the side when Hermione indicated she was going to shoot a cone of frost at a cluster of Deep Stalkers. As soon as they turned into ice statues Alistair brought up his shield and bashed one of them into frozen little pieces of gore. It was tactic that they had perfected soon after their meeting.

He had been surprised when he discovered that his new warden sister was not only a Dalish, but also a mage. Worried that an apostate like her would react badly about an almost Templar like him asking after her magic, he had never brought up the topic. Nobody seemed to ever bring up the topic of her magic actually; not even Wynne. It was almost like everyone just ignores the fact that she was a mage outside of combat.

 _Probably for the best,_ he thought to himself.

Hermione raised her hand toward one of the slightly meaner looking Deep Stalkers. It opened it's maw into a soundless cry of pain. Alistair reconsider the spell she used as a crushing prison; one of scarier spells in her repertoire.

When it was all over she confidently strolled towards Lord Dace; her vibrant long red hair waving beautifully with her steps.

Her hair was yet another thing that had puzzled Alistair. In Ferelden, most people limited themselves to a very small number of hairstyles. it had nothing to do with culture, it was simply that shorter hair was more practical than longer hair. Fereldens where nothing if not practical. Alright, perhaps it also had something to do with wanting to differ as much as possibly from those pompous Orlesian's with their ridiculous fashion sense – Leliana had told him of some truly stupid examples – but he thought it was mostly for practical reasons.

Hermione on the other hand had hair that nearly reached her waist. Alistair had worried that some darkspawn or other would use the opportunity to grab it but that had never happened. Nor was he so stupid as to confront her about it; he had heard that girls could be sensitive about their hair.

* * *

They had spoken to Bhelen and Alistair's opinion of the man had not improved one bit.

"You can't still think he is trustworthy, can you? I could practically _taste_ the falseness on him! For all we know he will boot us out of Orzammar as soon as he no longer needs us."

"Bhelen needs the Blight defeated as much as we do, Alistair. All dwarves understand the danger of the darkspawn."

"Actually, the Blight is the only time during which Orzammar _doesn't_ need to fear the darkspawn. From a purely selfish point of view it would be in his best interest if the blight continues for as long as possible; at least so long as the surface isn't completely overrun. We have absolutely no reason to think he will keep his word that he will help us."

She was starting to look annoyed at him. "Look Alistair, I don't want to argue about this anymore. I want to get this whole dwarf stuff out of the way as soon as possible."

That surprised him. He _really_ liked it here. All the dwarves who knew what he was kept giving him respectful nods. It was nice being among people that didn't doubt the honor and integrity of the Grey Wardens the way his own countryman seemed to these days. He couldn't understand why she wanted leave so quickly.

"I thought you said I should stand up more for myself. I am doing that now aren't I? I think we should help this Harrowmont fellow."

She took a deep calming breath through her nose, and then looked him strait in the eyes. _**(persuade) "P** **lease Alistair, I need you to trust me on this.**_ "

And just like that, all his concerns vanished. Why did he even question her again? She had never led him astray had she?

"Oh alright. I don't like it, but I trust you."

She padded him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't look so glum Alibear. Bhelen will make Orzammar great again!"


End file.
